We are Gaia
by Necronesia
Summary: The Realm of Gaia is heading for disaster and it's up to a motley crew of adventurers to save it! Alternate Universe. No pairings... yet.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia or its characters, nor do I own the characters, Eileen Kirkland and Holleigh Burnside. These characters belong to Britannia Angel and __THE N 3 K O of Gaia Online, respectively.

**Chapter Summary: **Imperial orders arrive for Arthur's mentor, who has been missing for months, regarding the bounty of a troublesome necromancer. Against rational thought, the fledgling wizard decides to take matters into his own hands.

**Chapter Cast: **Arthur Kirkland (England), and Eileen Kirkland (Wales).

**Warning: **Mild violence and language.

**A/N: **This will be my first story published here! I'm so excited!

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Viridian eyes stared piercingly at a lonely piece of parchment, never wavering as if the leaf of paper might disappear if they did. The bright incarnadine seal which had previously held it together was broken, and so the paper's edges desperately curled inward in attempt to close itself. Peeking out from the furling parchment was immaculately cursive writing, with the symbol of the Imperial Union pulling the eye toward it. This was a letter of both great importance and great urgency—the wax used to seal the paper was still very soft.

"_We, the members of the Imperial Union of Gaia, request your assistance in the capture and/or removal of the vagrant necromancer, Aron Nordheim. Reports suggest that he is traveling in the direction of Noregr and is highly dangerous. Please present this document to a knightly order should you need assistance…"_

This letter was not for him; it was for a very capable and renowned wizard who would likely need no assistance from the knights. She had said that he had amazing potential in magic, but how could that potential grow into skill if she was never there to teach him? Arthur's mentor had often been called to the Arcane University, so his time with her was short and inconsistent. Now, his studies had come to a trickling stop because his teacher had gone missing. Three months of no contact told him this, and if that had not worried him enough, the parchment lying before him made his gut writhe in anxiety.

Heaving a sigh, he brought his hand up and ran his fingers through his tawny hair, and then stood from his seat. His bones creaked and popped in protest, as he had been seated for quite some time now, and he wrinkled his nose at the sounds. He had heard of this Nordheim man, and of the terrible things he had done. Necromancy had been outlawed due to the ethics and danger of the practice, but there were always those who would do its dark deeds despite this. Green eyes narrowed at the paper as feelings of anger began to surface from his thoughts.

What could be done now that the very person that the Union had reached out to was missing? A strange thought occurred to him, then. What if _he_…? "Tch, how absurd," he muttered to himself, shaking his head free of such ridiculous notions. A fledgling wizard like him could never hope to even come close to someone as experienced as Nordheim, let alone capture him. Yet, the thought still clung to his brain; its presence lingering and maddening even as the sorcerer retired to his chambers for the night. It kept its grip on him, poking and prodding until the green-eyed young man could sleep no longer.

He had to do something…

Before he could stop himself, Arthur was completely immersed in research pertaining to necromancy, the knightly orders, and the basic magic that he currently knew. He tacked a map up upon the wall above his desk and pinned markers to Loegria (where he currently resided), Aonaichte (which his research had determined had the best knights), and Noregr (where Nordheim was supposedly headed). Because he did not know the necromancer's current location, the novice wizard could not estimate how long it would take for his bounty to reach its destination. Aonaichte was also located across the North Atlas Sea, which was a fair distance away. If he wanted to do this and do it right, he would have to move quickly.

Moments after the morning sun's rays filtered into his room, Arthur was up and dressed in his emerald vestments, scrambling around in search of his staff. The dark circles around his eyes were clear indications of his obsession stealing away his sleep, but his energetic behavior betrayed his appearance. "This is preposterous!" He exclaimed as he made his way out the door, staff in hand. It felt like there were live wires running throughout him; a childlike excitement had overtaken him at the prospect of the journey he was about to take. Despite how ridiculous he claimed these feelings to be, inwardly, Arthur embraced them.

The fledgling wizard had worn his morning away at the docks, and as the sun took its highest position on the sky, the former electricity within him had completely died. According to the ever-so-polite gentleman at the docks, no passenger vessels would be crossing to Aonaichte for the remainder of the month. Apparently, the captains had been feeling an ill wind lately, and were hesitant to set sail. There were, however, plenty of merchant and missionary ships, but Arthur was abrasively refused whenever he inquired about them. Cursing their foolish superstitions, he languidly trudged home, feeling somewhat empty from his failed attempts.

His mood having been completely soured by the ordeal at the docks, Arthur hadn't noticed the very obvious form of his sister as he shuffled inside and right past her. It wasn't until she cleared her throat did he make any notice, and it had given him quite a scare. Bringing his staff up over his head in what he thought was a poised position to strike, he blinked stupidly at the blond woman before him. She was silent as she stared at him, her eyebrow raised in that familiar all-knowing expression that made Arthur flinch; that meant that he was in trouble and that there was no way out of it. In her hand, she held the curled parchment that he had so thoughtless left sitting on the table overnight. There was no way he could have explained his way out of this one.

Swallowing a bit, he opted to say nothing and turned away from her to busy himself with something else, but her hazel eyes were on him the whole time. After an uneasy lapse of silence, the fair-haired young woman finally spoke up, turning completely to face her cowering brother. "You're not going alone," she stated simply, her voice soft but stern. Had it been anyone else, Arthur would have played stupid and bombarded her with questions, but it was apparent that Eileen knew everything. He inwardly kicked himself for leaving his maps, books, and above all else, the letter in plain sight. Nonetheless, he would have to say something, and it would have to be something to discourage her.

"I'm not going at all," he retorted bitterly, whirling around to face his sister, arms folded across his chest. Technically, it wasn't a lie considering that he did not possess the transport to actually go anywhere, but it also wasn't the truth. If Arthur could find a way, he'd be going.

Disbelief written blatantly on her features, Eileen tilted her head inquisitively and took a step toward her brother. "Oh? Well, if you _were_ going, you wouldn't be going alone," she said, repeating her point with finality as she watched Arthur begin to retreat at her advance. Her dear brother had a tendency to try and do everything by himself, and most times it ended badly for him. He just wouldn't accept help unless he didn't have a choice to; that's how she learned to deal with him.

Arthur scoffed, faltering a bit as he retreated from his sister, and then turned his attention to the papers that lie scattered on the table. "Of course I wouldn't," he said, noting that her other eyebrow had risen at this statement, "I'd have a knight." Matter-of-factly and final, he haughtily turned from his sister to place his belongings in his room. Of course, as he had assumed she would, Eileen trailed behind him, a reply ready on her lips.

"Oh, a knight! That's all fine and dandy _after_ you get to Aonaichte," she began, hands on her hips as she watched her brother try to busy himself with anything but facing her. He never did win these arguments, and he knew this fact painfully well. "How will you manage to protect yourself up until then, hm? Wave your stick and hope for the best?" She knew that this would get his blood boiling, but it was part of her strategy; the more upset that the novice wizard got, the less smart he became. To put it simply, anger made Arthur stupid. Anyone watching the two argue would ultimately conclude that they were siblings.

Arthur's cheeks flushed with anger as he whirled around to face his sister again, storming up to her with purpose. "It's not a bloody stick, it's a staff!" He exclaimed, wagging the object around in front of him as if the action could define what it was. "And I don't need to wave it around at anyone, I have magic!" Huffing hotly, he stomped past the blond woman to go inspect his cupboards for something to calm his nerves. Tea would be very nice at the moment.

Eileen's gaze followed her brother's movements intently, her expression thoroughly unimpressed, and she shook her head at his temper. Honestly, when someone found the right buttons to push, Arthur really flew off the handle. Still, she egged him on, feeling that she was coming close to winning. "Hmph, about as much magic as a common street magician," she muttered, making it so that she was audible to her fuming sibling. While it was quite an exaggeration, she did feel that her brother did not know enough wizardry to protect himself outside of Loegria.

At that small mutter, Arthur's frame shook with rage, but he did his best to contain it; exploding on his sister usually did not end in his favor. Calming down somewhat, he glanced over at her, pouting indignantly. "Oh, and I suppose _you're_ better off, then? If I recall, you've only been at that church for less than a month." Turning back to her, he leaned against the countertop, an arrogant smirk curling his lips upward. Feeling victorious, he continued with his counter-logic, "How much more could you have possibly learned?" In his pretension, he failed to realize the fact that his magic domain was very different from his sister's.

Without hesitation, the "fairer" of the two siblings reached behind her and hoisted a large, cumbersome mace onto the table between them. Her brow raised in amusement as she observed her brother's shocked and humbled expression. "Well, I know how to cure wounds and poison, and I also know how to wield weapons that weigh more than a few pounds," she said, her tone suggesting that she was bored by this fact. She gave a wide, sweeping gesture toward the weapon, watching Arthur expectantly. "Go on, then. If you are so capable on your own, I don't see why you can't use _this_ to protect yourself." A catlike grin, very similar to Arthur's previous one, appeared on her lips.

Piercing green eyes flickered between the large, dangerous-looking object on the table to the blond women on the other side. This happened several times, but no other motion was made for quite some time until the wizard-in-training heaved a heavy sigh and glanced off to the side in defeat. "F-Fine," he began, wincing at his sister's little hum of victory, and looked up at her with a deep frown before continuing, "But what does it matter if we can't even bloody well get there?" Really, what was the point of all this arguing? Did she really want to win that badly?

Again, Eileen grinned, one of her hands resting on her hip, the other wagging a finger at her brother. "That's where you're wrong," she said in a teasing voice, and then brought her mace back into its original place at her hip. "You might have forgotten, but I serve the church of Kord…" Both of her eyebrows raised as she trailed off, waiting for the green-clad man to put the pieces together. Now that he was calmer, it should be easier for him to think, but if he took too long, she'd gladly answer for him.

It took a moment, but only a moment before realization dawned on Arthur's face. _Missionaries…_ "When can we leave?"

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**A/N: **So, what did you guys think? There will be other chapters, but I can't say for certain when I'll be able to get them done. Please, review!

**In the next chapter: **A mysterious musician, a dunderheaded knight! Things aren't looking so good for our duo.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia or its characters, nor do I own the characters Eileen Kirkland and Holleigh Burnside. They belong to Britannia Angel and __THE N3KO of GaiaOnline respectively.

**Chapter Summary: **Arthur and Eileen board the missionary ship _Papillon_ and prepare for a month-long trek across the North Atlas Sea. Unfortunately, it's not going to be smooth sailing for the entire trip…

**Chapter Cast:** Arthur Kirkland (England) and Eileen Kirkland (Wales)

**A/N: **Bad pun was bad, and I am very sorry. I also apologize for how long it took for this to be finished.

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The missionary ship, _Papillon_, was due to depart the next morning and embark on a journey that would span the entire month. Although it was the fastest mode of transportation, such a lengthy trip left a bad taste in Arthur's mouth. The wizard was in fact in a terrible hurry, and this detour to Aonaichte was going take up a hefty amount of his time. He could only pray that Nordheim would be stalled in some manner or it would spell doom for Noregr and any other city that the rogue necromancer happened to pass through on the way. Though, perhaps this was fate. After all, haste was never a good ally when battle was at hand.

They had packed light, but efficiently when the two siblings left their homes that foggy morning, not wanting to make the long journey that much more cumbersome. When they boarded the grand, tall galley, Arthur took a look around him and felt a little misplaced. Young men and women who were priests, nuns, and clerics under Loegria's Church of Kord bustled about the vessel, lively speaking of their destination. The beryl clad young man looked down at himself and wrinkled his brow in thought as the damp air tousled his tawny hair. He wasn't sure if it was just paranoia, but he felt like he stood out like a sore thumb. He did not believe in the philosophies or teachings of any deity and he was afraid that if the current passengers knew of this, they'd surely toss him to the greedy sea.

Once the ship slowly began to drift from the dock, leaving his homeland behind, the novice sorcerer soon forgot about this uneasy feeling and instead began to feel somewhat lost. He had not left the shores of Loegria in quite some time; in fact, he couldn't remember the last time he traveled elsewhere. His viridian eyes flickered to his sister, wondering if her church duties had offered her more opportunities to travel. Her hazel eyes held the same expression as his, and instantly, he did not feel so out of place. Brother and sister stood beside each other, watching in an almost hypnotic fixation as their home rapidly retreated from their sight until it was nothing more than a speck on the horizon.

For the experienced sailors, the trip had been going rather smoothly—the water was calm and the winds were more than generous—but for a particular spellcaster, it was nothing short of miserable. Apparently, Arthur's stomach was not accustomed to the rocking motions of a boat, and for the first few days he could barely keep his meals down. He was rather embarrassed about this fact, as he considered himself to have quite the fortitude, but it appeared that none of that fortitude was of the intestinal kind. Eileen had been worried for her brother, fearing that he would not be getting the proper nutrition if he kept this up, but near the end of the first week, Arthur was sauntering around the _Papillon_ as if he was born squawking on the deck of a galley.

During the course of this long journey, the two learned a great deal from both the crew and the passengers. Originally an adamant atheist, Arthur gradually began to open his mind to the idea of religion and its values. Of course, he remained faithless, but now his views were much less harsh. Eileen, who had never so much as touched a cooking utensil in her life, was not an accomplished cook. Her hearty stews could warm a man from the inside out and keep his belly full for the entire day. The Kirkland siblings were growing comfortable with life on the vessel, and as they neared the second week of travel, neither of them could imagine walking about on land where the air lacked the salt of the sea and was missing the gently rustling of the waves.

Unfortunately, they would soon come to learn that the sea was not always so gentle…

On the dawn of the thirteenth day since departure, the golden rays of sun were nowhere to be seen. The normally crystalline blue skies were being choked by foreboding blackness, and the sea beneath them churned in dismay. If the ominous aura of the number thirteen could ever become tangible, it was surely this day. The air was cold and filled with static, but otherwise unsettlingly still. It was as if the sky was holding its breath and waiting, but what it was waiting for was anyone's guess. The otherwise gentle rocking was now jerky and unstable, and for once since the beginning of the trip, Arthur felt that familiar queasiness clutch at his stomach once again.

By midday, the tension amongst those aboard the _Papillon_ was suffocating, and no matter how hard they tried, the passengers and crew just could not shake the lingering unease. The deck was deathly silent, save for the angry roar of the ocean as it forcibly pushed against the hull of the galley. It was not long before the captain ordered the missionaries to retreat below deck, and the silence was overridden by the anxious murmurs of the adults. Arthur sat in his room, eyes staring intensely at nothing, his thick brows knitted together in worrisome thought. "It's not natural… this kind of weather," he muttered to the hovering form of his sister, eyes not even so much as flickering to her. Eileen merely nodded to this, her own hazel gaze fixed on the gray and white spray that rushed against the porthole window.

Time was incalculable, now. The skies had darkened in such a way that no shadows could be cast, and it was almost as if the ocean had been cast into perpetual night. There was no possible way that the day had passed already, but no one could be entirely sure. With this newly settled darkness, the tenebrous clouds finally exhaled, letting rain pound against the wooden vessel like a steady and relentless staccato. As if unable to compete with the rhythm of the rain, the wind died down completely, letting the water fall straight down from the heavens. Now, the grand tall galley was being tossed around like a toy boat in rapids. None of this was right; any sailor worth his salt could tell you this.

Suddenly, the sound of panicked scrambling could be heard above deck, and those below held their breath in expectant fright. Urgent shouts were muffled by the wind, which had returned with a vengeance, and Arthur watched with fearful eyes as the candle sitting upon his bedside table toppled over and slowly rolled off the edge. His cabin had obtained a steadily increasing tilt, and soon the table followed the candle, dangerously sliding across the wooden planks. The ship gave a terrible lurch, making it extremely difficult for anyone upon it to stand upright. The Kirkland siblings exchanged glances and then quickly clambered to the surface with the rest of the passengers.

Clinging to whatever upright surface they could, Eileen and Arthur emerged onto the deck, bewildered eyes curiously glancing about. The wind and rain stung the eyes, making it necessary to squint or duck one's head down against it. The fledgling wizard observed the chaos caused by roaming cargo, wincing with each loud crash as crates, barrels, and equipment slammed against the railings of the ship. The icy rain stinging his eyes, he lifted his arm to protect his face, only to be startled with a sudden and violent change in wind direction. He watched with startled fascination as the rain struck his hand on a completely horizontal path. Wasn't rain normally carried on an angle? "Eileen, look at this!" He shouted over the clamor, turning into the wind in attempt to face his sister, but she was paying no attention to him or the rain. Her attention was on something much more alarming.

Amidst the flurry of blackened water and vicious white foam, was the source of the _Papillon's_ steep incline and the reason for the tumultuous panic on-deck. The beginnings of what was going to be an immense maelstrom had already pulled the galley into its largest circumference, and it was rapidly gaining in power and depth. The two stared into the swirling abyss as if they were being sucked in themselves while the captain and the majority of the crew grappled with the helm. Seven men fought against the powerful draw of the whirlpool and the only thing they gained from it was a gut-wrenching snap; the rudder quickly disappeared into the void.

It did not take long for the maelstrom to reach full potential, its center reaching the very bottom of the North Atlas Sea, and an immense for rose from its origin as if summoned by a snake charmer.

The creature's body undulated grotesquely as it writhed toward the tenebrous sky, as if that were its ungodly destination, and once it was mostly emerged, it hovered in its pointed position. Its luminescent eyes turned to the pitiful form of the _Papillon_, and its maw opened and it let loose a hellish roar. Screams tore from the throats of both the crew and the passengers, and a few were stuck in dumbfounded silence. "Leviathan!" A voice yelled over the turmoil, but it took Arthur a moment to let the word fully sink in. He knew what a leviathan was—there wasn't many people who didn't—and he found it very difficult to grasp that that was exactly what he was gawking up at.

The leviathan was a legendary terror of the sea: a sea snake that dragged sailors into the depths of the icy ocean to feast upon their souls. The creature would often utilize the pulling power of a maelstrom, waiting in the center like an oceanic antlion for its prey to be delivered to it. That was exactly what it was doing now, and there was nothing that could be done to stop it.

There was something unique about this behemoth, however. The sorcerer tilted his head in morbid curiosity, having noticed a strange writhing movement throughout the beast's body. It appeared as if its scales were squirming, thrashing against the leviathan's very being, almost like they were trying to escape. Being a pursuer of knowledge, even in such a dire situation as this, Arthur reached into his robes and retrieved a spyglass. Ignoring the protests of his sister, peered into the eyepiece and scrutinized the monster that would likely end him. "M-My god…" After a single drink of the leviathan's appearance, the wizard's mouth was hung agape and the spyglass dropped from his limp grasp.

The writhing, thrashing scales that lined its body had _faces_—moaning, contorting faces. Hundreds of thousands of squirming corpses composed this gargantuan beast, forming its entire snake-like being. Sinew and seaweed roped the bodies together, restricting any major movement, and where the creature's spines rested, they were impaled. Its teeth were sharpened fragments of bone, and the interior of its mouth was lined with heads and skulls, chattering and screaming every time the hellish animal opened its maw. This leviathan was certainly not the one of legend; this _thing_ was an abomination that in no way could naturally occur in any waters except those of the underworld.

Arthur's mouth had gone completely, eyes wide, and he felt sickening cold grip his gut as he gaped. His sister had been beckoning him to the entire time, saying something about the mast, but he just could not tear his eyes away from the beast. It took the rough grasp of the captain to shake him free of his trance, and he soon found himself being tied to one of the masts beside his sister. "W-What the bloody hell is going on!?" He cried, frantically glancing to his sister for clarification, but was surprised to receive it from the captain, who stared at him in despair.

The haggard man finished tying the not that would secure the Kirkland siblings and others to the main mast, wrinkling his brow as he tried to remember if it was a wet knot. "She's lost her rudder, mate. There's nothing we can do but try to keep everyone onboard and pray that we surface." And with that, he stepped back and gave Arthur a half-hearted salute, then disappeared into his cabin where he would remain regardless of what happened. The inexperienced spellcaster called out to him, struggling against his binds, but his muffled cries went unheard.

No matter how fast the current carried the grand tall vessel, it seemed to those onboard the _Papillon_ that they would never be swallowed up by the whirlpool. It was torture; with each full circle, the ship tilted into a sharper incline until it was completely on its side. By this time, the screams of terror and the muttering of prayers had died down and the deck was once again silent. Everyone aboard the galley had accepted their fate, and that fate was likely death. Green eyes flickered to the sullen form of the blond cleric-woman, empty and lost as they beheld her. She was silent and completely limp within the ropes that confined her, just barely keeping her head up. Arthur moved his arm as much as he could, and just barely managed to wrap his fingers around his sister's hand. He gave it a tight squeeze, a faint spark of warmth returning to him when she responded meekly.

All eyes were skyward as the leviathan gave one last hellish screech and slowly began to retreat into the center of the maelstrom. Soon, they would follow and the icy sea would claim their bodies while the monster claimed their souls. The walls began to close in on each other at an alarming rate, and the passengers and crew took one last breath as the two sides of the vortex slammed into each other, pinning the vessel helplessly in between. As the walls met, it resulted in a spectacular upward spray of water, appearing to any above the waves as if a depth charge detonated beneath the surface. With the disappearance of all evidence the _Papillon's_ voyage, the sea and sky calmed to their original blues, and the world continued its natural progress.

Meanwhile, beneath the deceivingly calm surface, the dozens left aboard the ship were in an icy, watery hell. The violent undercurrents dragged the galley against the rocky structures near the bottom. The pressure caused by the rapid movement and the depth kept all those aboard pinned to the masts, and breathing was nonexistent. With each ill-timed gasp, the frigid seawater rushed into Arthur's lungs, its alien consistency burning his lungs and throat until it felt as if they were on fire. The world around him was fading as darkness encroached on his vision; it appeared as if the craft was adamant about staying below the surface and would not allow its passengers the luxury that was air. Before he completely lost consciousness, the wizard could have sworn he saw a great light, but perhaps this was the proverbial white light of death—though, this light was blue…

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**A/N: **So, this chapter turned out completely different than I had originally planned, and I do not entirely enjoy it. Hopefully you guys will!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia or its characters, nor do I own the characters, Eileen Kirkland and Holleigh Burnside. These characters belong to Britannia Angel and __THE N 3 K O of Gaia Online, respectively.

**Chapter Summary: **By what can only be described as divine intervention, our adventuring duo arrives at Aonaichte Beag, albeit unconscious.

**Chapter Cast: **Arthur Kirkland (England), Eileen Kirkland (Wales)

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long, guys! University is a lot more time-consuming than I anticipated.

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The port was clear—it had been clear for quite some time, now—and thus those watching it were listlessly conversing with each other. With all of the talk of ill omens and uneasy feelings, almost all overseas traffic had trickled to a stop. Those who lived by the ports could only pray that all of this nonsense would be over soon, lest their trade routes be rendered barren. Many had already packed their things and moved inland, particularly the capital, where they would be safe financially as well as personally. In short, business was bad in Aonaichte Beag, and if things didn't start changing, it was only going to get worse.

The port-masters' attentions were divided amongst card games, conversation, and the sea, but the latter received the least of their attention. What was the point in staring out at the gray, empty expanse until your eyes bled? It wasn't going to exactly make something appear. As the saying goes, 'a watched pot never boils,' or something to that extent. The old sailors cackled amidst themselves as they indulged each other in distasteful jokes and gambled with sand dollars. They couldn't afford to be caught gambling with real money again, or it'd be the boot for them.

The older gentleman whose wiry, white hair was tied back heaved a sigh and threw his cards down in the center; he had a pair of deuces. Out of the game rather early, his gaze wandered about in boredom, and eventually his clouded eyes found their way to the ports. His jaw dropped and he slowly got to his feet, shaking his head as his eyes beheld an incredulous sight. "Hey, Tom… whatcha gawkin' at?" One of his colleagues inquired, quirking an eyebrow at the other's bizarre behavior. Tom did not so much as grunt in response, but rather dazedly scrambled to the warning bell and rang it as if his life depended on it. The rest of the gaggle clambered to their feet and turned their attention port-ward, and almost immediately, their faces matched that of old Tom's.

Languidly drifting in the gray waves, a battered behemoth of a galley silently approached the barren port, its stealth disconcerting to those who witnessed it. The faded, scratched name _Papillon_ could barely be seen, and the old sailors vaguely wondered if this vessel had come from hell itself. The galley's hull cried seawater, and the mermaid mounted on its bow looked as if her face was in constant anguish. Her lower jaw was smashed off, and her missing fingers gave her the illusion of grasping claws. The sails and oars were nowhere to be seen, and the wheel at the helm spun effortlessly; the rudder was likely gone. As if aware of its arrival, the vessel stopped at the dock, its distressed wood releasing a hellish groan that sent unpleasant shivers down the sailors' spines.

It took a few moments, but soon the port-masters were able to move their bodies of their own volition and rushed to tie the galley to the dock. As they stared up at the behemoth, they could almost swear that it was radiating an unearthly glow, reminiscent of a firefly. It could almost be described as beautiful, but the sinister aura about the ship quickly cast such descriptions aside. Once the _Papillon_ was secured—not that it would wander very far in its current condition—a few of the sailors with enough gall boarded the damned vessel. The sight on board was no better than from the docks; in fact, it was much more grisly and bone-chilling.

Limp and pallid bodies were scattered about the deck, many crushed by the broken masts, others still tied to them. All seemed still and silent, like a grim oceanic graveyard, until one of the figures tied to the mast began to stir. Shouts erupted among the men onboard as they scrambled about to the survivor's aid, and soon it was discovered that there were others. There wasn't many, but the very idea that there were any at all was miraculous if not unsettling. Out of the twenty-seven missionary passengers, only nine were still alive, and it was all too probable that even less would be breathing the next day.

After transporting the living few from the ghastly galley, the port-masters could only stare as the ship seemed to attempt to drift back out to sea. Rather than keep the likely cursed vessel at the dock, it was released, and those conscious enough to witness it watched as it disappeared into the grayness. The haste of its retreat made it seem as if it were being pulled forcefully backward, spirited away by whatever demons summoned it. Good riddance was the first thing they thought; going to church was the second. Until further information on the ship was recovered, the survivors would be stationed at the local inn where a doctor would treat them as best he could.

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By morning, only four were left; the rest had passed away from hypothermia, malnutrition, or dehydration. Two of the four had woken up, and the physician feared that if the remaining duo did not soon rouse, they might never regain consciousness. He had noticed, however, that despite their dormant state, the unconscious individuals appeared to be in better health than those that had awakened. When he stopped to wonder why, he could not help but shudder, as his thoughts often brought him back to the ghost ship. The doctor of Aonaichte Beag was a man of white magic, and he had a feeling that the cursed vessel was something spawned of the black arts. He could feel the remnants of it radiating from the survivors, and it worried him greatly. He wondered if it would ever disappear, for they would have great difficulty if it did not.

Later that day, the port-masters returned with information on the _Papillon_ and its passengers. Apparently, it was a missionary vessel carrying members of the Church of Kord, and it was not due to reach the port for at least another two or three weeks. It was absolutely mind-boggling; how could a ship traverse the Great Atlas Sea in less than a month? If suspicions hadn't arisen earlier, they certainly did now. Regardless, the survivors were to be sent to the capital, Rainier, as it was where they had intended on going. This was done partially out of pity, but inwardly out of fear. The people of Aonaichte Beag were wary of those who were once aboard the demonic galley.

The four cursed passengers were loaded into a wagon just before sunset, arranged by the mayor of the town for similar motivations previously mentioned. The journey to the capital would be a short one; they would reach Rainer in the morning and be escorted to the church. As they were boarded along with some donated food and money from the townspeople, the doctor whom had treated and cared for them gave them one last assessment. Before he left, he gave them all a pitiful smile, particularly the two which had not yet woken. The two who were conscious responded with brief looks of fright and bewilderment, but the physician uttered nothing in explanation.

He watched the wagon hobble into the distance, the smile finally falling from his face as he pressed his lips into a thin line. "I do not know what demon has his eyes on you, but for your sake, I hope his vision has its limits."

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For the longest time, all he had seen was blackness and all he could feel was cold. Now, behind his eyes was familiar golden light and comforting warmth he thought he would never feel again. He stirred, his joints crying out in protest with a cacophony of pops and snaps. His throat burned as if its entire length was rubbed raw with sandpaper, making even the slightest breaths seer his lungs. His body was stiff and ached all over, crying out in protest with pops and snaps whenever he moved as if he had been tossed about in the sea like a ragdoll.

The sea…

A ship…

The _Papillion_…

Screaming passengers…

…

Green eyes snapped wide open, pupils constricting with the new amount of light, their owner abruptly bringing himself into a sitting position despite the pain and dizziness it had caused him. A raspy yelp escaped his throat, his eyes frantically searching for the monster that undulated upward from the abyss… but there was nothing of the sort. In fact, he was sitting in a strange bed, staring at strange white walls, wearing strange clothes. What of the _Papillon_? What of the passengers? What of that beast? "W-Where… Where …?" He inquired, bringing a hand to rest upon his light brown hair.

"Rainier, brother…" Said a voice, resounding from the right of him, and even though it was soft in tone, it had made him jump. Viridian oculi flickered to the source, glittering nervously at the form at the window. It was his sister; her back was turned to him as she stared out at the streets of the capital. He could not see, but her normally vibrant eyes were dull and her face held a default and gray expression. "We are in Rainer…" She repeated in gentle monotone, not even moving as she spoke.

Confusion and panic setting in, Arthur rose from his bed—with difficulty, mind you—and approached his sister cautiously. "B-But, the ship… what happened?" He asked faintly, stopping a few steps from the sullen woman at the window. He honestly could not remember anything that could answer his question, and he wasn't sure if it was because of physical trauma or mental. His thick brows furrowed as Eileen gave a subtle shrug of her shoulders in response, heaving a small sigh. "I don't know, Arthur… but there is rumors." They had sounded so outlandish and extreme; she wasn't sure which to believe, especially since the bits that were true were already unbelievable by normal standards.

A slight frown crossed the wizard's features, and his attention wandered to the interior of the room. His eyes found that there were other beds in the room, all unoccupied besides the ones he and his sister had used. Arthur felt a knot begin to twist his insides at this observation, and he turned his worried and curious gaze back to his sister. "And the others…?" He implored quietly, hesitant to have even said such a thing out loud; he deeply dreaded the reply. Finally turning to face her brother, Eileen shook her head and gave him a sad look, and that was when noticed the phantom traces of tears on her cheeks. "There are no others…" She answered solemnly, swallowing thickly as she fought back the heat that had risen behind her eyes.

Apparently, there were two others who had arrived with them, but some time before Arthur and Eileen had awoken, they had gone made and taken their own lives. Of course, the members of the church in which they were staying at did not mention this to them. They were fearful that the remaining two survivors may become unstable with such information. But word traveled fast in the capital, and it would only be a matter of time before the stories would come to surface and the Kirkland siblings would have to face the truth.

They had arrived at their destination, albeit under despairing circumstances, but was it truly right to continue? After the loss of so many lives, and barely surviving the journey to the first checkpoint, how could they possible expect to go on? At the very least, Eileen needed to recuperate before anything could be decided. After all, the passengers were of her congregation. Arthur did not want to give up, but the alternative surely meant death, and not just of him, of his sister and other innocent individuals. The idea made him feel unprepared, naïve, and sheltered, and he inwardly berated himself for expecting to skip merrily all the way.

They had eaten only because they needed to. Their stomachs cried out and panged in hunger at the scent of food. Emotionally, the siblings had no appetite, and even though they consumed their meals ravenously, they did not enjoy the taste or the weight currently occupying their guts. Drink was the only thing that truly satiated them; the water instilled lost vitality, made the headaches disappear, and soothed their raw airways.

Yet, they remained silent and lugubrious; husks of their former selves.

His slumber that night was not an easy one, as he could hear the silent sobs of his sister in the next bed. Every time he closed his eyes, the novice spellcaster saw the writhing body of the leviathan, its maw lined with staring skulls. Morning would not come soon enough. Eventually, Eileen had succumbed to sleep, having cried herself into exhaustion, and Arthur followed soon after. His mind too tired to further form images, he was once again lost in the blackness behind his eyes.

"Arthur… Arthur…" He faintly realized that he was being beckoned to, but rolled over onto his side, attributing it to his dreams. "Wake up, you bloody git!" The tawny-haired magician let out yelp as he soon found himself tumbling onto the wooden floor. He emitted a sharp grunt as he made impact, and glared up at his sister with one green orb. She hovered over him, dressed in the very clothes they had started their journey in, a broad grin on her face. That was peculiar… wasn't she absolutely miserable mere hours ago? "We're not going to find a knight with you lying on the floor like that…" At that statement, Arthur's eyes went wide, and he peered up at his sister incredulously.

He had known Eileen was strong, perhaps even stronger than him in some cases, but at this very moment, he was in awe. "No," he said firmly, dusting himself off as he got to his feet. He turned to his sister and shook his head, concern wrought across his face, and repeated the word for emphasis. "No… we're going ho--" The sound of a slap resonated throughout the room, and after that there was silence. Shocked green stared into fierce hazel, and even though not a word was spoken, the message was loud and clear.

"_We can't go back now, Arthur…"_

"_I know, but…"_

"_We'll die if we do nothing."_

"…_I know."_

"_Then let's do something, and try to live, hm?"_

_

* * *

  
_

**A/N: **Crappy chapter is crappy… I promise there will be more in the next one, so please don't abandon me! D:


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia or its characters, nor do I own the characters, Eileen Kirkland, Rhodri Owen and Holleigh Burnside. These characters belong to Britannia Angel, xFeelsLikeFallingx, and __THE N 3 K O of Gaia Online, respectively.

**Chapter Summary: **Our duo is having a terrible time trying to find the Order of Liberty, and reluctantly gain the help of a sketchy bard. Now it's time to see just how these knights have come to be so renowned.

**Chapter Cast: **Arthur Kirkland (England), Eileen Kirkland (Wales), Francis Bonnefoy (France)

**A/N: **I suck at keeping writing schedules… seriously.

* * *

The morning light was clear and bright, causing unprepared pupils to contract painfully into miniscule specks. Rainier's streets were as busy as always, festooned with a milling throng of merchants and busy townsfolk. Their attentions were consumed by the impulse to arrive at their destinations and finish their daily routines and duties. Hopefully, they would be willing to take some time out their morning just briefly enough to help two traveling strangers.

The individuals within the scurrying mass occasionally paused and scattered to converse with each other, though not all of it appeared to be friendly banter. Clearly, some of these people did not know what manners or tact was, and this made the Kirkland siblings hesitant to approach anyone.

Keeping his goal in mind, the tawny-haired sorcerer swallowed his nerves and stepped into the buzzing throng, intent on gaining the location of the knights. With Eileen trailing close behind him, Arthur weaved through hurrying citizens, wrinkling his nose from the stares and hushed comments he received.

Whenever he spoke to someone, either he did not receive a response or the person retreated with a mumbled excused. The wizard just did not understand; his approach was open, calm, and polite. He spoke with a soft voice and with the mien of a nobleman, so why did he elicit such reactions from these people? Apparently, his sister had been having the same problem, and this deeply frustrated the green-eyed spellcaster to no end.

"I don't understand these people, Eileen," he muttered with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his mussed hair as he took a seat on a nearby bench. "I mean, clearly they comprehend what I'm saying, but it's almost as if they're repelled by me…" A frown crossed his features as his beryl oculi followed the passersby before him. It deepened into a grimace as he watched a few individuals shrink away from his distant stare.

The blonde woman at his side pressed her lips into a thin line, her fingers idly fidgeting with the sleeves of her blouse. She too had noticed the townspeople's seeming aversion to them, and it worried her deeply. "Brother," she began, her eyes averted from her sibling even as he turned to her. "Do you think they can… tell?" The question was vague, at best; it very well could have applied to anything. Of course, Eileen had only meant one thing, and it seemed ridiculous now that she thought of it.

But, something about their reactions tugged at her mind, told her otherwise, and made her paranoid. _Is it really that obvious?_

"Tell?" Arthur echoed inquisitively with a raised brow, and then returned his attention back to the milling throng. "Hm, well our clothes are a tad outlandish, and they seem to have a strange way of speaking, almost like a dialect…" Clearly, the novice wizard was not on the same page as his sister, who sighed as he continued with his ultimately incorrect train of thought. "Not to mention, I don't think locals would be asking for directions."

Even still, he found it somewhat befuddling how a port city could be so highly repelled by foreigners. Such close-minded xenophobia would surely cripple their trading relations with other countries, would it not?

"What?" he asked, noting the gentle shaking of his sister's head. Before she could reply, giving him a bit of a look, she was halted by the sound of an unfamiliar chuckle to Arthur's right. She was certain it had been directed at them.

"Two lost little kittens wander far from home…" Long, slender digits fluttered across silver strings, eliciting immaculate singing from the instrument. Its aria carried softly and beautifully through the morning air. "Bewildered and frightened, the city streets they roam…" The voice that accompanied the music was low and smooth, effectively drawing pleasant shivers from whosoever managed to hear its words.

"Bombarded with such cruel inspection…" Another mesmerizing purr, another flutter of strings, and now glimmering pools of cerulean flickered in their direction. "Destiny led them in my direction…" Lips curled upward to form a lazy smirk, hypnotizing and taunting in its simplicity, and the lute sang out one last time.

The peculiar poet was a stunning young man with wavy golden tendrils that shone in the sunlight. His skin appeared smooth and soft with not a single blemish, fault, or scar in sight. His chiseled chin was adorned with unshaven stubble, but somehow it did not make him appear unkempt. Rather, it made him look almost distinguished. The bard's eyes were a deep oceanic blue that seemed to radiate with a mischievous heat that could make those beneath their stare squirm in delight and apprehension.

His ears were long and came to a point at the terminus, which indicated blatantly that he was of elven blood, deliberately situated outside of his feathered hat in a form of narcissistic advertisement. He seemed tall and elegant beneath his elaborate and vibrant robes, with one leg crossed over the other, and his instrument delicately cradled in his arms and lap. Anyone would agree that this particular man was incredibly attractive.

"_Vedui', lirimaerea_~" He purred softly, azure orbs half-lidded as he regarded the siblings to his left. The elf adjusted his position, leaning forward so that he could rest his cheek against his hand, and stared sideways at the duo. The language was unknown to the two, so they could only assume that the bard was speaking Elven, but they could tell from his tone and body language that he was greeting or addressing them.

Ever wary, the Kirkland siblings kept their distance as they watched the musician, tentatively returning the greeting with nearly imperceptible nods. To Arthur, in particular, the man did not sit well with him; he was not one to so quickly judge others, but this individual was a clear exception. Having given him a slight nod of acknowledgement, the tawny-haired sorcerer gently grasped his sister by the elbow and began to lead her away. Not surprisingly, Eileen did not seem to have any objection to this.

Again the man chuckled, speaking with a volume that was easily audible to the two travelers from Loegria, "Very well… I only wished to help you." He waved a dismissive hand at them, smiling calmly, and returned to strumming his instrument. The musician watched out of the corner of his eye as the blonde woman gave her brother a look that said, 'He offered to help us; why not at least hear him out?' The calm smile on the man's face grew into a grin of victory and amusement as the viridian-garbed man begrudgingly approached him, his sister in tow.

"F-Fine… we need some information," Arthur was reluctant to divulge the entirety of their destination, as he found the bard to be a little on the sketchy side. He and his sister nearly jumped out of their skins at the dramatic flourish that the stranger enacted, and wrinkled their noses at the pompous laughter that escaped his throat.

"But of course!" He exclaimed mirthfully, another sly grin curling his lips wryly. "I am as full of information as I am talent!" At this exclamation, the novice wizard could only roll his eyes and fight the urge to walk the other way. _You're full of something, alright_. A brief glance at Eileen told Arthur that she was thinking the same thing.

"Ah~, but before we get down to business, I should introduce myself!" Getting to his feet, the extravagant musician placed his lute aside and did a sweeping bow, twirling his wrist in what was supposed to be an elegant gesture. "Francis Bonnefoy, man of golden tongue and golden fingers~," As he said this, the golden haired elf glanced up at the two travelers, his voice dropping to a suggestive purr as his eyes gleamed wickedly.

Both siblings grimaced and minutely flushed at the lewd implication, and soon realized that the other man intended to stay in that position and stare at them in that predatory manner until they said something in response. Unwillingly, the two glanced at each other, then heaved an inward sigh. As much as they'd rather not tell him their names, they'd much rather not have him perpetually leering at them.

"Eileen Kirkland…"

"Arthur Kirkland…"

Satisfied with his minute victory, the elven bard straightened with a broad smile, smoothing out his elaborate clothing. "Ah, so you are related, _n'uma_?" Like a flash of lightning, there was an ephemeral glimmer in his eye that was mildly disconcerting, but it quickly vanished. Stroking his stubble with his thumb, the man named Francis appeared to ponder for a moment before he spoke again, "So, what is it that you wish to know?"

Relieved that they could finally get to the point and hopefully leave this man to his lechery and prose, Arthur folded his arms across his chest and replied, "Would you happen to know where the Order of Liberty's headquarters are located?" He sincerely hoped that the man would not continue to absurdly beat around the bush. The realm was in jeopardy, so he hardly had the time for such silliness.

Seeming somewhat unimpressed by this question, the elf frowned and allowed a soft sigh to pass through his lips. He placed one hand on his hip and gestured with the other as he spoke, "Of course I know where the knights' headquarters are…" Francis was inwardly hoping for something a little seedier, something that would have had a little more value to it. He had expected for them to perhaps ask about a specific someone, with little implications of danger in their tones. But alas, they were just a pair of lost tourists, it seemed. However, the reaction he had gotten from them was a little intriguing…

Eileen's eyes lit up a bit at the bard's reply, and she looked to her brother with an expression of contained excitement and relief, which was more subtly returned. The newfound value of this information made itself even more apparent in the urgency of Arthur's tone, not to mention the slight irritation and impatience. "Well, then? Where is it?" He tapped his foot, staring at the other man expectantly.

Francis chuckled through his nose, tucking a stray strand of his golden hair behind his ear, and then brought the other up to wag his index finger at them disapprovingly. He smirked, winking his right eye as he cooed, "Ah-ah-ah~, _melloneamin_… talk may be cheap, but my information is not." His lips twisted into a wicked grin.

The green-eyed sorcerer gritted his teeth and gave the elf a piercing glare, anger and frustrating boiling within him. Didn't anyone believe in doing things out of the goodness of their hearts, anymore? Of course, the person in question would have to have both goodness and a heart for that to make sense. From what he understood of Francis, he had neither. "Y-You scheming bastard!" He exclaimed, becoming delighted at the hurt and surprised expression on the other man's face at his outcry, and turned to his sister. "Come on, Eileen." After earning a nod of affirmation, the siblings turned to the crowd once again.

Unbeknownst to them, the musician had been regarding them for much longer than they had assumed. The very reason he had conversed with them was because he had observed their difficulties in approaching the townsfolk. It was very blatant that the populace was avoiding them for some reason. Perhaps they were the two from that ghost ship; the ones that people said lured the missionaries onto the galley to devour their souls. That was the rumor, anyway. It was no wonder that nobody wanted to go near them… except him, of course. Why pass up such a definite business opportunity?

It didn't take the siblings very long to realize that they were getting nowhere with their current approach. It didn't help that Arthur was particularly frazzled and eventually began to growl and yell at people when they ignored him. If Eileen didn't drag him away now, he would surely start swinging. Her brother absolutely refused to speak to Francis, especially after his rather rude outburst, so the blonde cleric was left to the bartering. Of course, negotiating with the bard might prove to be a daunting task.

"Ah~ _Creoso au',_ _lirimaerea~_," He cooed as he watched the siblings approach him once more, pretending to have been paying attention to something else. Francis was about to continue, likely in some time-wasting manner, but was cut short by the rather blunt statement from Eileen. "How much?" She inquired curtly, her hands resting on her hips as she scrutinized the musician with a calculating glare. Her tone made in incredibly clear that she was in no mood for his foolishness, but the man didn't seem like someone who paid attention to body language unless it was for lust.

The elven bard brought his hand up to his chin and stroked it thoughtfully, taking a seat on the bench he had previously occupied, and crossed one leg over the other. Gesturing with his free hand once again, Francis spoke in his ever-so dramatic tone, "Well~ there's the base fee, then the service charge…" He appeared to be thinking quite hard about something, crunching likely fictitious numbers in his head as he continued, "Not to mention the obligatory tip for the brutal attack on my person." With that, the musician pouted and placed the back of his hand against his forehead, as if he were about to faint.

"I'LL GIVE YOU AN ATTACK ON YOUR PERSON, YOU BLOODY _WINESIPPER_!"

Having returned to a default expression, Francis counted on his fingers and turned to the siblings, holding his open palm outward expectantly. "And with that last abrasive outburst, your total comes to fifty gold pieces." The two siblings paled considerably at the estimate, practically seeing the moths flying out of their pockets. Between the two of them, they maybe had ten gold pieces, which a mere fifth of the outrageous price. The elf merely grinned a Cheshire grin, wiggling his digits in emphasis.

"F-Fifty?!" Arthur's voice went up an octave as he repeated the number, his blood positively boiling as the bard nodded in response. "Are you mad?! We can't pay tha--" He was cut off by the sudden invasive leap the elf had taken toward them, and had to stumble back a few steps to regain his personal space. Francis now stood before them, his grin wide enough to split his head in two, that predatory gleam returning to his cerulean eyes.

A low chuckled emanated from his throat as he took slow deliberate steps toward the Kirkland siblings, tilting his head to the side. "Not to worry, _melloneamin_. There are _other_ ways you could pay~." His voice had dropped to smooth, seductive purr, the heated gaze fixed on the two travelers before him. Honestly, Arthur didn't know what was more disturbing, the expression on his face or the fact that it was directed to _both of them_.

Surprisingly, it wasn't the tawny-haired sorcerer that was the first to lash out at the lecherous musician, but his sister. Letting out a cowardly yelp, Francis scrambled back against the outer wall of a building, his once mischievous oculi now staring down the business end of a Morningstar. He swallowed thickly, wincing at the way his Adam's apple scraped against the weapon's protrusions, and tried to manage an apologetic smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words were quickly choked back as the head of the mace pressed against his throat.

"Now you listen here, you hormone-driven ingrate," Eileen growled menacingly, ignoring the frightened stares of the public behind her. "Either you tell us where the bloody knights are, or your pretty clothes are going to be dyed red, aye?" For intimidation and emphasis, she pushed the weapon forward once again, smirking when a strangled yelp escaped the elf man's throat.

Eyes wide in fear and stuttering up a storm, Francis was unable to make an intelligible sentence, and this impediment worked out for the better. Arthur, for once the one with the coolest head out of the two, cast a worried glance over his shoulder and muttered a curse. He placed a hand on the shaft of the weapon and turned to his sister, tentatively putting pressuring on the handle to get her to lower it. "Eileen," he whispered quietly, but loud enough for her to hear, "It won't do us any good if we get into trouble. I doubt the knights will be willing to help a couple of criminals." The blonde woman listened and hesitated, the pressure against the bard's larynx easing up a bit at her brother's words.

Unfortunately, the siblings hadn't taken into account that the person they were currently assaulting was indeed an elf. His long ears twitched minutely, straining to listen in on their conversation, and when he picked it up, that smirk of his returned to his lips. Clearly, the location of the knights wasn't the only thing they weren't aware of, and this could very easily work to his advantage. Thinking quickly, and with the pressure against his throat somewhat relieved, the elven musician began to shout out in distress.

"_TUA! TUA!_ I'M BEING ATTACKED!"

Flinching at the noise and the panicked screams of passerby, Eileen decisively returned her weapon to its place on her back and turned her gaze to the ground. Arthur hissed at the other man, flailing his arms a bit in attempt to quiet him down. "Alright, alright! Look, we've only got ten gold pieces… take it or leave it." As much as he didn't want to part with the entirety of their wallets, this whole thing was just getting annoying. If Francis refused, worse comes to worst, they'd rove the streets.

Ceasing his cacophony almost immediately after the weapon was holstered, the elven man straightened and began to smooth his hair and clothing, dusting off the latter with a frown on his face. Francis did not enjoy being roughed up in the slightest, especially when it wrinkled his clothes so badly. With an indignant huff, he turned away from the Kirkland siblings, but held his hand out expectantly once again. "Fine, fine! Just get out of my sight, you barbarians!" Once the gold was deposited into his palm, the bard spared no time in giving them their valued directions. If he saw them again, it would be too soon.

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**Vocabulary:**

_Vedui', lirimaerea _– [elven] Greetings, lovely ones

_n'uma _– [elven] No

_melloneamin_ – [elven] My friends

_Creoso au',_ _lirimaerea_ – [elven] Welcome back, lovely ones

_Winesipper_ – a derogatory term for an elf (coincidentally).

_Tua_ – [elven] Help

**A/N: **This chapter was a bit longer than the other two… and it's not that good. Unfortunately, I had to end it here because I felt that the next bit deserved to be in another chapter.


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